She'd have enjoyed her lunch break a whole lot more if she hadn't been so painfully aware of the fact that, when it was over, she had to go back in that room and listen to Peggy Philpot-Phillips drone on some more.

The need to escape had been so severe that she'd actually taken her sandwich and yogurt outside, disappearing to the grassy hill on the opposite side of the building. It was a nice spot - familiar, but she wasn't sure she'd go so far as to call it a comforting place.

It was a reprieve anyway - had been for months. And a reprieve was just what she needed right now.

As always seemed to be the case, her thoughts turned to Jim. And Karen.

She'd kind of liked it better around Christmastime, when she'd been surprised to realize that she actually liked Karen; even though there was a small, petty part of her that wanted to hate Karen for having him - really having him - she knew that it was counterproductive to think that way.

The shock of hearing him say, "I think you should know that I've kind of started seeing someone" had been trumped only by what it felt like to have to witness the occasional hints of intimacy between them - whether it was a back rub or Karen bringing Jim two aspirin and a glass of water the day he'd had a headache, her palm lingering on his face for a second before she walked back to her desk.

She vacillated between wondering why fate was punishing her this way and believing that she fully deserved this - because she'd had her chance, and she'd blown it...devastating him in the process.

So she'd struggled to do the hardest thing of all, which was to let the depth of what she felt for him push her into looking past the jealousy and the immaturity, instead embracing the bald fact that she loved him - and she knew this now, had known it for a long while - the bittersweet ache giving her strength somehow.

Because what she wanted more than anything in the world was him - and since she couldn't have that, then she'd settle for the other thing that she truly wanted: for him to be happy; for him to be loved and appreciated in the way that he deserved to be (in the way that I totally failed to do).

That was the thought to which she had clung as she walked toward Karen's desk the day of the Christmas party; it was what she tried to cling to when she gave him not the advice that she wanted to give (Be with me; I made a mistake, Jim, and this is all wrong), but the advice that she had to objectively admit was best for him.

Because, given a choice between causing him pain or suffering through her own, she'd have chosen misery for herself any day.

------------------------

He'd been totally shocked when Karen had ended up seeking Peggy Philpot-Phillips out during lunch, asking her a well-thought out question that surprised him - because apparently she'd managed to somehow follow that woman's rambling diatribe.

He knew the polite thing would be to sit next to them, but he just couldn't - maybe if he'd known it was all over, he could've mustered it; as it was, knowing that he had to sit through another three hours of monotony was more than he could handle politely.

So he disappeared down the stairwell, pushing open the back door, and taking in a deep breath when the afternoon sunlight hit him - warm, comforting in the midst of the biting air. He wandered aimlessly around the outside of the building, his mind racing: Maybe I could just get in the car and leave, then send Michael a frantic text that says I had an emergency and had to go....

It would never work, and he knew it; the guilt would negate any relief he found in escaping the mind-numbing ennui.

Such was the course of his thoughts as he turned the corner leading to the back of the building. When his eyes rested on Pam - leaning back, her hands propping up her from behind her back, face tilted toward the sun - he felt a visceral jolt.

One foot in front of the other...and then he was standing next to her, causing her to jump slightly, one hand above her browbone as she looked up at him, shielding her eyes from the brilliant glare of the sun.

"Hey."

"Hey." He gave her a warm smile, then gestured to the grass beside her.

"Oh - yeah, go ahead." She nodded toward the ground next to her, indicating that he should sit down.

He did so hesitantly, knowing that this probably wasn't a good idea.

"So...this is a nice spot; I'd never even thought about coming out here before." It was just something for him to say to fill the space between them...because every inclination in him rebelled against that distance whenever he was faced with it. It didn't seem natural, didn't seem possible to function amid that ever-widening chasm.

"Yeah..." Her voice was distant, and she seemed lost in her thoughts - distracted.

A silence fell - the kind of silence that once had been comfortable between them, in spite of all the things they hadn't said; now the silences were dangerous, because they housed the relentless echo of all the things that had been said: I'm in love with you. I can't.